


The Mistletoe Haven

by breaking_points



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Jughead is adorable, One-Shot, Veronica totally ships it, bughead - Freeform, bughead one-shot, gleeful mood, holiday fic, holiday fluff, mischievous Jughead, some nostalgia, they're so happy here, with a lil dash of Varchie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-12-30 09:02:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12105291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breaking_points/pseuds/breaking_points
Summary: Important OTP Christmas Question:Who has placed mistletoe in every room of the house to get in as many kisses as possible and who is exasperatedly questioning "This is the fifth time today, where is all this mistletoe coming from?!" before sighing and leaning in?Found on Tumblr, namely Wintersoldeirs





	The Mistletoe Haven

**Author's Note:**

> *exhales* Second fanfic, here we go...
> 
> Hello again!  
> Man, school has been hectic. That's why I didn't post anything...I'm sorry.  
> Here I am, though, and here is the next one-shot...  
> As always, comments are heavily appreciated.  
> Sorry if it's too long, it kinda wrote itself...
> 
> Happy reading!

It was Christmas, a nostalgic season for anyone, the whole “tales of Yuletide, cheer” and all that fun holiday schmuck. Jughead was a sentimental person (with the beanie and all, duh) but Christmas especially was something both painful and beautiful for him to think about. 

Every night before Christmas, even though the pain which he reminisced about was over, he still remembered trying to keep Jellybean asleep while FP and Gladys were at it again, screaming at each other for tearing the family apart when the both of them were in fact were the ones bringing it down. He remembered feeling unloved on a holiday that was supposedly all about the love of Christ.

It was also beautiful in the way Jellybean used to squeal at the handmade presents she would get from her mom and a few poorly made, though fully made with love, gifts from Juggie. FP, of course, only had his lovely hungover self to bring to the tree. Jughead rarely got anything, except for a few Serpent donations of books (they all knew how much the little guy loved to read), but he loved Jellybean with every piece of his shattered heart, so spending time with her was gift enough.

All of these memories made him hate Christmas and the sorrow of it.

Until Betty Cooper walked in. 

Even the Christmases spent in their childhood were made brighter by her, as she slipped into their dinghy two-bedroom house that they lived in, before the Grand Exit of Gladys and JB, holding a Tupperware, whispering “Mom baked cookies.”

He would relish them and her presence for as long as she was allowed to stay, until she slipped out of the house marred by fights, only peaceful for the time being because of the truces brought on by holidays. 

But now that they were together, and closer than ever-

It changed.

He was in a very gleeful mood, stringing lights and hanging ornaments like a boy-shaped tornado. He saw Veronica, looking from side to side, as she sneakily tied a sprig of mistletoe to a chandelier (using a chair, of course - even though she could make you feel like she was 8 feet tall, she was a disappointing 5’1”) at her posh apartment.

“Hoping for a smooch from Archiekins, aren’t we,” Jughead slyly guessed.

Veronica jumped. 

“Well,” she said, recovering from the scare, “To misquote the old adage-if you can’t beat ‘em, kiss ‘em.” 

“Ah. Archiekins will be  _ so _ surprised.” He said in an overexaggerated Veronica accent.

“That’s the idea,” she said, mirroring his smirk. “Actually,” she added, coming closer, “I know of someone else who would love to be pleasantly surprised.” 

He swallowed at the idea, knowing instantly what she was talking about. “Would Betty be up for that?”

“Oh, that girl is more devilish than she lets on,” Veronica whispered. “She would be hanging the mistletoe herself were she not concerned that you would be uncomfortable with it.”

Jughead shifted his weight uneasily, and he wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Sure, Veronica was his friend, despite what he had said about her at his disastrous Sweet Sixteen, and she knew how to put Archie in his place, which he was very grateful for, but he didn’t know how to tell her how he felt. 

Good thing Veronica already knew.

“But of course, you’re fine with that, even though you’re uncomfortable with human contact,” she said intuitively. 

He grimaced, which was a sure sign that she was right.

“Oh, Jughead,” she sighed. “I say this not in an admonishing voice but -  _ live a little _ . Trust me. Surprise Betty. She’ll  _ love _ it.“

“A-are you sure?” He asked, his voice raspy with hope, and - oh  _ God  _ \- optimism. 

“Veronica Lodge is never wrong,” she affirmed.

He gave her an  _ oh really now _ look.

“Okay, well, Pre-Cal doesn’t count.”

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Ok, if he was considered gleeful before, he was beyond hope now. Like some weird hybrid of hyperactivity, insanity, and euphoria. He was bouncing.  _ Jughead Jones, _ also known as the Holden Caulfield of Riverdale, was  _ bouncing _ . He was giggling like a lovesick schoolgirl. If Reggie could see him now...thank God he was having his own alcoholic party with The Goonies cast, a social concept light years away from the comfort of their tight-knit group. 

But he had taken Veronica’s words to heart. He had begun with the mistletoe, tying it around obvious areas where Betty was sure to pop around, like the loose nail in the library that was established solely for Betty and Jughead’s enjoyment (there was also a peephole there connected to Veronica’s room so she could swoon over how precious they were together, but they didn’t need to know that), the kitchen where she was sure to be whipping up some scrumptious confection, and last, but not least, the doorway where she would enter in about five minutes. 

 

Betty walked through, a vision as always. Her hair was curled and tucked behind her head, and she was wearing a brilliant emerald green dress of the same color of her beautiful eyes. He was struck dumb, and almost forgot about his self-imposed mission. But a Jones never gets distracted, so he briefly pointed to the plant, and met her lips with his.

Sound FX went like this:

“Hey V, got your message--oh hey, Jug-wh-” before she began sinking into the kiss and submerging her fingers under his beanie, running her hands through his dark hair. 

He pulled away, with a huge, impish grin on his face. He wasn’t blushing at all. There was mischievous pleasure dancing in his eyes.

“ _ Jughead Jones _ ?! _ Did you just ambush me _ ?” she asked, her mock-scolding being sabotaged by the dopey smile on her face.

“Mayyyyybe,” he answered, stretching out the syllables and giving her the cutest little expression that made her heart melt. 

“Okay, Billy Loomis,” she replies. “Let’s go and sing songs of Yuletide joy.”

He tried to give a pout, knowing one of the many things he and Archie Andrews didn’t have in common was singing ability, but she laughed at his attempt to dissuade her and tugged him by his sleeve to the library. 

“Not now though,” she amended. “Veronica’s getting ready for going outside, and that will take an hour at least, so we have a lot of time." 

Veronica had set up an extravagant tree - the Lodge heiress was nothing if not lavish - in the living room at The Pembrooke where the majority of the presents were stashed, but Betty had seen this piddly foot-and-a-half one at Walmart and fell in love, so she set it up in the library. 

She was squealing in delight, and it just made Jughead turn into mush to see her like this, sappy as that was. She was so stressed out, bending under her mother’s expectations for the holidays. But he and the gang told her repeatedly that she could be herself here. She was like a silver birch, he reflected. She bent under the onslaught of wind that was her mother’s dictatorship and others’ expectations for her to be perfect, but he thought of himself and their friends as gardeners that wanted nothing but to see the beautiful tree flourish.

But he was still on a mission, and he quickly guided her to the branch that held out another bit of mistletoe. He kissed her again, and she cupped her cheeks to his, as soon as she got over the surprise of yet another ambush.

“Jughead, oh my god - are you giggling?!” She whispered, not because she didn’t want anyone to hear them, but because Jughead deviating from his dark and broody aesthetic completely drenched her in shock. 

“Oh god - that was horrifying,” he tried to say in a tone that would make the statement sound true, but the waves of laughter overcame him as he broke down into a fit of giggles. 

“Juggie!” As she started wiping the tears away from her face, she attempted to calm down, but it just got worse and she burst into another fit of laughter. 

 

And so the hour went on.

The two reached a mutual decision to open their special presents in the library later, when Veronica would be sleeping in the arms of Archie after their own little private celebration. 

Betty had made it to the kitchen, where, under the cupboard, he assaulted her lips with his own once more, attacking her with a fervor that only she knew and reveled in. He was so calm and collected in public, but she and Archie, and Veronica (who knew how to read people) knew of the innate compassion in his heart, which he would have you believe was two sizes small, but they knew it was more along the lines of the Grinch’s heart at the end of the slightly cliche film. 

But she knew of the passion within as he physically proved his love for her with his soft lips. 

“Jughead? If we keep on like this, we won’t have any energy for carolling,” she protested, but relented when he made this little pouty face.

She shook her head. “Both your sentimental gestures and your love for complex carbs will be the death of me.”

“Come on, carolling is in half an hour!” he quickly interjected, trying to prevent the loving lecture she was about to make. 

She smiled. “Oh, you’re safe for now, Jones. But later-” she smirked and his heart dropped to his stomach. Oh wait, his heart was already in his stomach because of all those Christmas cookies imported from that New York bakery Veronica was raving about.

He pecked the corner of her mouth, watching as said corner turned upwards. “I can’t wait.”

  
  


Jughead’s voice was terrible, all cracking in all the places that were supposed to stand out (no, after beating him with a slew of unwelcome changes, puberty _ still  _ wasn’t done with him) but Betty just raised her beautiful voice that he had always adored.

She always swore that when he smiled at her while she was singing, his voice became an incomparable melody, completely blotting out Archie and Veronica’s nightingale voices.

 

As was to be expected, Veronica excused herself to her room (to remove her makeup, she said), and Archie promptly disappeared in the same direction (to use that bathroom, he claimed, not that there was anything wrong with the guest one), and Betty and Jughead snickered. 

“Those two could not be more obvious if they made out all the way to the door,” Betty giggled and, as if on cue, Veronica’s yelp echoed through the entire apartment, followed by an “Oh, Archie!” 

After spending much time chortling over the painful transparency of their best friends’ copulation, Jughead dragged Betty to the library for their special presents. Instead of cutting straight through the living room, as he normally would, he took her through a different hallways, gestured toward the romantic parasitical plant, and leaned in. 

“I swear to God, this is the fifth time, where is all this mistletoe coming from?” sighed Betty, before acquiescing and meeting his lips with hers.

“Jughead? This is your doing, isn’t it?” she accused with a grin on her face.

Jughead’s face changed from one of dreamlike ecstasy to a concerned expression.

“Veronica told me you wouldn’t mind...are you okay with it?”

“Are you freaking kidding me? I love this,” she said in disbelief, cupping his cheek. “Although I am perplexed as to why The Pembrooke turned into a mistletoe haven in an hour.”

He laughed and pecked her smiling lips.

 

Their presents made each other squeal (as much as he denied it, Jughead did squeal, several times, very loudly). Her gift to him was a completely sarcastic and cynical review of classic stories, bought from Riverdale’s only Barnes and Noble. His gift to her was an Intellectual Devotional. He had fretted for some time over whether she would think that he thought she was dumb, but he realized you really did need to be intellectual and willing to learn these things, which was Betty in a nutshell. And he was right. She yelped in glee and pecked him on the forehead.

They spent many hours giggling and talking, and finally, around 11, she let him out and bade him goodnight.

“Juggie?” she whispered as he made his way to the door.

“Yes, Betts?” he answered, voice breathy with that same hope.

A hope that was not unfounded, as she leaned in and gave him a deep kiss, but not before she pointed to the same mistletoe that he jumped her with at the start of the evening. He made his way towards the Andrews house - he was spending the night with Archie, not that Archie would come home anytime soon.

On the way there, he realized:

He would not stop smiling.

And the funny part was, he didn’t mind at all. 

 


End file.
